


He Who is Without Sin

by bitch_I_might_be



Series: Thin Ice 'Verse [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is only in this at the end, Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Christianity, Dialogue Heavy, Gay John Laurens, Internalized Homophobia, John and Washington are just gently roasting each other, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religious Discussion, Wokeshington??, also John is doing some impressive mental gymnastics here, and they need to be discussed with Washington obviously, because I can only write two characters at the same time don't @ me, featuring woke Washington, it's mentioned - Freeform, this caters to me and me only, this is christian guilt written by an atheist, turns out John has issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27509035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitch_I_might_be/pseuds/bitch_I_might_be
Summary: It was John's own damn fault for bringing it up.He meant it to be a simple question, one Washington could answer something mean to and move on, but things rarely worked out the way he wanted them to.In any case, that was not how he'd wanted to spend his evening.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, John Laurens & George Washington
Series: Thin Ice 'Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004361
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	He Who is Without Sin

**Author's Note:**

> I am really vibing with this AU right now, ngl. This doesn't really have much of a plot, I just did whatever my gay little heart desired :)
> 
> John is like 'I am a sinning sinner who will go to ultra hell' and Washington, who Has Done Bad Things Actually, is just like 'words are made up and your crisis is stupid, ring me up when you find some real problems to bitch about'

Being alone with the general got easier over time, but John noticed a more drastic change in their relationship after he got shot.

It unnerved him a little, if he was being honest. One night the man told him he wouldn’t hesitate to put an end to John if he so saw fit, and a few months later they could work alongside each other in almost comfortable silence. Was it a game to him? Was he trying to get into John’s head? It wasn’t like he had to even _try_ to achieve that, Washington and his threats lived rent-free in his mind since he’d voiced them.

So, one night after they had, with joined forces, sent Alex off to bed early because he'd looked paler than usual, John spoke up.

“Sir, I’ve been thinking-”

“Well done, my boy,” the general said, eyes on the missive in his hands and face impassive.

That was exactly what unnerved John. Before he found out about the connection between Washington and Alexander, when he had just been a normal aide like any other, he hadn’t known the man to _joke_. He barely even smiled.

Yet, there he was, making sarcastic quips at him.

John paused and watched him for a moment, until his silence seemed to register with Washington and he glanced up.

“Did you want to elaborate?” he said, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

John blinked slowly and rolled several approaches to the conversation around his head; he settled on blunt, as usual.

“You’ve been getting awfully comfortable around me,” he said.

Washington traced a finger along the edge of the parchment in his hands. He didn’t break eye-contact. “I suppose I have.”

A beat of silence. “I’ve just been wondering about it. After you found out about Alex and myself, I had just assumed… well, at first I had assumed you would strangle me yourself, and when that didn’t happen, I prepared myself to never have a civil conversation with you again. This is… not what I expected,” he finished lamely.

Washington made a thoughtful hum and didn’t comment further. John recognised that strategy–it was the same thing he did when he tried to extract information he was unwilling to share from Alex.

He would humour him, this once. “Frankly, I would have thought you’d be more uncomfortable in my presence. I mean apart from-” he bit down on his tongue just in time to stop himself from blurting out _apart from seeing your son naked on a regular basis_ , because oh boy, would that have gotten him shot again. “apart from being with Alex, I- well, Sir, I’m a sodomite.”

The general put the missive down on the desk he leaned on and curled his fingers around the edge of the table-top. That seemed to have caught his attention–but he was remarkably relaxed, still.

“So is Alex,” he said, not even batting an eye. John inhaled a sharp breath and let it out through his teeth, pushing down the hot anger that threatened to bubble up from his stomach.

“That’s not- it’s not the _same_ , Sir. Alex is, well, he isn’t like me. He likes women, too. He’s not a-” John licked his lips and cleared his throat, preparing himself to use that word in relation to the man he loved. “A sodomite, Sir.”

Washington let his gaze drift around the room, blunt fingernails scratching along the grain of the wood, deep in contemplation.

“Son,” he said, finally, after a tense silence. John almost startled when that word hit his eardrums; he had apparently missed the earth-tilting shift in their acquaintance that made him go from _Laurens_ or _Colonel_ back to _son_ and _my boy_. Despite the tension in his body, a small smile formed on his face. “for… certain activities, you need two people. The word sodomy describes the act of a man laying with another man. I… do believe, unfortunately, that you might have done that with my son.”

John blushed up to his ears, once again reminded that the general _knew._ If he mentioned their certain activities one more time, he would never touch Alex again, Alexander could harass him about it all he wanted, John didn’t care. Fighting a war was one thing, but that kind of stress, he just couldn’t deal with.

“Sir, I would really, really appreciate it if you could never talk about that again,” he said, eyes fixed on his own boots. 

“Oh, so would I. Do you think I enjoy having that picture seared into my mind? No, John, I do not. But my point is, if you are a sodomite, so is Alex. And if I treated you different for it, but not him, I would be a hypocrite. I do not make a habit of being a hypocrite.”

His eyes snapped back up to meet the general’s, and he took a moment to just glare. The emotions stirring inside him were a mess; he was embarrassed, angry, oddly touched at the general’s casual acceptance of his affliction, but, yeah, the hot, tight coil of anger won out. How could he say something like that about his own son? About _Alex_? 

“With all due respect, Sir, but I would prefer it if you refrained from calling him that. It’s a despicable word,” he ground out. John wouldn’t snap at the general, he had that much restraint, at least–even if he had to ball his fists tight enough for the bite of his fingernails into the flesh of his palms to distract him.

Washington sighed and pushed himself away from the desk he had occupied, crossed the few feet separating them, and perched himself on the edge of John’s desk instead. They were close now, closer than they would ever get to each other in company.

“It’s a word, son. Just a word. A word you used to describe yourself just a few minutes ago,” he said, patient and measured, and John hated that he wasn’t getting emotional like he himself was.

“Just a word?” he repeated, peeved.

The general nodded slowly. “A word. Like bastard. It has negative connotations, of course, but we don’t have to think about them that way. They describe circumstances the individual they are applied to cannot control–or did you choose to find the same sex appealing?”

John sighed and put the small of his back to the edge of the table, so they were in a similar position. Like that, he had to turn his head to look at the general. He didn’t. “No, Sir,” he answered.

“Hm. And Alex did not choose to be born a bastard. Rachel and I are to blame for that. Do you understand, John?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see that the general had turned to look at him, but he refused to meet his gaze. “The thing the word describes is still wrong. You can call it sodomy, or you can call it, how did you put it? Finding the same sex appealing? Changing the expression doesn’t make it any less sinful.”

He wished it did, but, oh well. John had made his peace with burning in hell for eternity a long time ago. If it meant getting to spend his time on earth with Alex, he couldn’t even bring himself to regret it. 

Alex, though. He wasn’t like him. He could be normal. He wasn’t going to hell with John.

“Sinful?” Washington asked, startled. John looked back at him, and he saw genuine surprise written over his features. “Where did that come from?”

John blinked, his initial confusion giving way to quickly growing frustration. If he had known the evening would derail that way, he would have gone to bed with Alex. “The bible, Sir. That’s where that comes from.”

The general just returned his stare, expression unreadable, and didn’t answer. John’s brow furrowed further. 

“I did not take you for a religious man,” he said at last.

“I’m a christian, Sir. Even sodomites are, sometimes,” he said, shooting the man a small, humourless smile. “I know what will happen to me, after I die. I know where I’m going.”

“What an awfully bleak thing for such a spirited, young man to say,” Washington remarked. He watched him with a sense of sorrow, or perhaps worry, and John couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Sir, that soldiers especially should make their peace with their own death? We don’t know if we’ll still be here tomorrow, or the day after.”

“I still don’t like hearing you talk like that. I pegged you for quite the optimist, my boy.”

“Oh, I’d like to think I am, usually. Must be the late hour,” John said. It had to be; it felt like something buried deep had been laid bare inside him, something long lost at sea washed up on the shore. He didn’t like it, and he particularly didn’t like that it was his commander in chief who seemed to have hauled whatever it was from its depths.

“If it helps,” Washington began, slow and almost hesitant, as though testing how the words rolled off his tongue. “I don’t think your final destination will be eternal damnation. You are a good man, John.”

He snorted. “Don’t try to console me like I’m a child, Sir, I told you I’m fine.”

“Alex likes to say that. _I’m fine_. It’s not generally a thing people say when they truly are fine, you have to realise,” he said, and John had the weird sense the general wanted to laugh at him, even though nothing in the way he held himself would suggest that.

“So, what?” he said, asking himself why he couldn’t seem to stop indulging the man tonight. “Some sins are fine and others are not? Where is the line, Sir?”

“Oh, John,” he said and sighed; a tiredness settled over his brow, and from one moment to the other, he looked far beyond his years. “When you get to be my age, you gain some perspective. Love is never a sin, it’s the one thing we all have in common.”

He let the silence stretch and thought that over, before his mouth decided to go off and do its own stupid thing again. “Is that what you told yourself when you fathered Alexander?”

The general stared him down with narrowed eyes, calm, collected, and John broke out in a nervous sweat. He hadn’t meant to say that, he didn’t know why he had, that was such an extraordinarily _stupid_ thing to say to anyone, let alone _the man who employed him_.

“I feel like now is a good time to remind you I do carry a gun on my person,” Washington said.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t know what came over me.” He rubbed a hand down his face and scrutinised the floor between his feet instead of the blank stare the general pinned him with.

“I’m sure you don’t,” he said, warningly. “As I was saying, young man, love is not a sin. There are truly horrible things in this world, terrible people who have committed terrible injustices, but you are not one of them.” His voice took on a strange edge when he said that, and his brow pinched as if he was in pain. It seemed John was not the only one forced to pull something he had hidden away back into the light.

“I understand,” he said, quietly, in the hopes it would direct the conversation back to more even ground.

Washington sighed, exasperated, and John wondered when the man had learned to read him so well. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Does that sound familiar, John?”

“It does, Sir,” he admitted begrudgingly. 

“So, can you please stop your self-flagellation? It doesn’t suit you.”

John hummed his agreement and they sat in silence for several minutes, the things they had said and the things they hadn’t hanging in between them–but not in a bad way, not in a way that divided them. He felt… closer, somehow, thanks to that horrible conversation. Oh Lord, had they had a heart-to-heart? Was that what that had been? He hoped not. John could deal with being antagonised and intimidated by the man, but a honest talk about their feelings crossed the line.

A small smile formed on his lips, and it was genuine. “I will never understand how you can be so kind to a man who gets to kiss your son,” he said, going for some friendly banter to shake the serious conversation from his immediate thoughts.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Laurens,” the general said and clapped a heavy hand to his shoulder. His grip grew tight until it was an uncomfortable pressure, but not yet painful. “Because, rest assured, if you hurt Alexander, I will not hesitate to add the sin of coldblooded murder to my own considerable list of wrong-doings.”

Ah yes, there it was. That had been missing up to that point; John had not felt nearly threatened enough. He relaxed a little, back on familiar ground at last.

“And Laurens, while we are on the topic, if you ever make him cry again like he did when you got yourself ambushed, there will be dire consequences.” There was a flash in Washington’s eyes; John recognised it. He had seen it before, the night the general had laid out the stakes of their little game–his words may have had a teasing quality to them, but he was serious.

But- did he say when he got himself ambushed? “Sir. Are you by any chance referring to the time I _got shot_?”

“Yes,” he said and pulled his hand back. His face was perfectly sober; he was either a great actor or he actually meant what he had just said.

“But. Sir. I got _shot_ ,” he tried once more.

The general blinked, and his expression didn’t change. “I am aware. Why do you think I didn’t harass you about this earlier? Just don’t do that again.”

He had to be fucking with him. “I… will try my best,” he said.

“Good.”

“Sure. Can I go now?”

“Yes. Dismissed, Laurens.”

“Hm. Great talk. Good night, Sir,” he said and pushed off the desk, already half-way across the room when the general spoke again.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Passable talk, at best.”

John turned to face him and took a couple steps backwards as he did, inching towards the door. “Absolutely, but I didn’t want to be the one to say it.”

Washington raised his brows and the cool indifference on his face slipped away at last. “Found your manners? This talk must have shaken you harder than I had assumed.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sir,” he said, just as he reached the door. “See you in the morning.”

“Good night, John,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, and John ducked out of the room.

On the way back to their own room, the small smile fell from his face as his thoughts returned to the things they had discussed. John tended to not acknowledge the part of him that knew what he was doing was _wrong_. He couldn’t afford to. Alex was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he couldn’t let those kinds of thoughts poison what they had; he had never even mentioned any of them to Alexander, and he wasn’t going to. Alex would tell him he was being ridiculous, he knew. Because they truly, deeply loved each other, and to him, there was nothing wrong with that – _love is never a sin_. Huh.

He couldn’t fathom, though, why Washington would try so hard to convince him his disposition wasn’t sinful, for he knew it to be. Maybe his reassurances had been more for himself than John. The general had put Alexander and him in the same category, after all, and if John was a sinner, so was Alex, and sinners went to hell.

Alex wasn’t the same as him. Alex could be normal; John couldn’t.

He entered the room quietly, the only light provided by the moon–it wasn’t even quite midnight and Alex was already asleep. They had been right to send him off to bed like a scolded child, he _was_ coming down with something.

John stripped, pulled on his night-clothes and climbed into bed behind Alexander, who was curled up on his side, throwing an arm over him and pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck. 

“I love you so much, darling,” he whispered and pulled Alex closer. He just wanted to feel his body against his own and pretend, for a few minutes, that he couldn’t only tell him that when they were alone at night, that he could yell it from the roof-tops if he so desired and not suffer a consequence except maybe an eye-roll from their friends.

“Love you too, John,” Alex mumbled and stirred a little. He shifted until he was half on his back and half on his side and squinted up at him in the dark room, eyes hazy with sleep.

John chuckled at the disoriented look he got and kissed his lips softly. “Go back to sleep,” he said.

Alex hummed an ambiguous sound. “What did you and Pa talk about?” he asked. One of his hands found John’s in the dark and linked their fingers together.

“Work,” he lied easily.

“Try again,” Alex said; somehow he always knew when John wasn’t being truthful, not that he made a habit out of lying to him.

John sighed and kissed the tip of his nose–Alex’s face scrunched up and he scrubbed at it with their joined hands.

“You know that tickles.”

“That’s what you get for being so nosy. Pun intended.”

“John, so help me God, I will push you off this bed-”

He pressed another kiss to his lips to disrupt his rant before he could get too invested. That was one of the easiest ways to shut Alexander Hamilton up, actually.

“It was a really weird talk,” he admitted when they separated again. “Strangely philosophical. I think he was trying to be nice, but also bully me at the same time. I don’t know. I feel like he likes me one second, and the next he’s telling me he can and will murder me.”

Alex made another sound that told him absolutely nothing. “John. My love.” His heart stuttered in his chest. Alexander tended to steer clear of terms of endearment, but when he did use one, it melted John’s insides in the most wonderful of ways. “Don’t let him mess with you. Don’t think too hard about his intentions. His agenda is known to him and the Lord only.”

John snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“I always am,” Alex said and turned back onto his side, pulling their joined hands close to his chest.

He put another kiss to the back of his neck. “Sure you are, darling.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm,” Alex said, but his voice was rough with sleep, and his breathing evened out soon after.

John smiled to himself, buried his nose in Alexander’s hair and let himself drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
